Burns
by trufflemores
Summary: Summer!Klaine. In which Kurt gets a sunburn and Blaine earns his keep as Boyfriend of the Year. Fluff fluff fluff. Written for adiwriting. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

The beach was amazing. Kurt loved waking up every morning to a snoozing fiancé (and for some inexplicable reason even Blaine refused to wake up early on vacation), bathed in sunlight without any external obligations. He loved sneaking out of bed to watch the sunrise over the ocean, cradling a cup of coffee between his hands and only startling a little whenever Blaine tiptoed up behind him to hook his chin over his shoulder and mumble, "Morning." The _good _was implicit: everything was just _better_ at the beach, Blaine's smiles acquiring a certain radiance as he flounced around in the waves later that same day, trying to splash Kurt whenever he dared to venture closer to the water, laughter squeaky and startled.

It had been an amazing first day, and Kurt anticipated that the full week would be just as incredible – except for one glaring problem.

The sun. Or, more accurately: sun _burns._

Try though he might, even Kurt's generous reapplications of sunscreen hadn't been enough to keep the sun at bay. The skin around his shoulders and cheeks was already noticeably redder, his frown turning pouty in the mirror as he ran his fingertips just over the light-red dusting across his face. There were lighter lines around his eyes where the sun hadn't been able to touch, his hair swept up in its usual carefully maintained coif to highlight the distinct freckles spattered across his face.

In due time, however, the initial burns faded. It wasn't until the third day of the trip when the temperature spiked to ninety degrees and Blaine _insisted _that he at least dip a toe in the water when Kurt managed to get well and truly _burnt._

He probably would have been fine if he'd kept his shirt on, grabbed a book, and waved off Blaine's invitations to join him in the water. It was impossible to resist the sheer amount of _sad _that Blaine could convey when he was genuinely disappointed, though, and against his better judgment, Kurt had caved and slipped off his shirt and tiptoed into the water.

And promptly screeched like a banshee when Blaine scooped him up and playfully threatened to drop him in waist deep water.

Thankfully some very _empathetic _threats to Blaine's bow tie and hair gel collections had been sufficient to keep him from following through on his threats, even though Kurt kept a tight hold around his neck until Blaine had set him back on his feet on the sand.

He might have been fine if he hadn't then kicked a stream of water at Blaine in retaliation.

As it was, Kurt let out a tiny sigh of relief as he slid back the door to their rental before padding over to one of the couches and sprawling out on top of it. He didn't even remember falling asleep, Blaine's humming as he put together a tortilla-based snack in the kitchen lulling him into repose.

Waking was hell.

Kurt didn't even know how long he'd been asleep for, but even partially face-down on the couch he could tell that the sun was still fairly high in the sky, albeit shifted noticeably to the left. Blaine's humming was virtually uninterrupted as he nibbled on a bowl of chips and salsa, a book open in one hand as he turned the page. Kurt hissed as he shifted onto his side, blinking owlishly at the back of the couch before he groaned as the muscles in his back stretched.

And oh, how they _ached, _a raw, searing burn rippling outward from his spine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, cutting himself off mid-hum. There was a momentary shuffle as he marked and set his book down before he let out a second, noticeably more pained croon of, "Oh, _Kurt._"

Kurt didn't need to look to know that it was bad. It had to be. He didn't tan – he never had, and he never would with alabaster skin – but he'd been so careful _not _to burn that it almost came as a shock to him that he _was._

Still. _Ouch._

"Here, let me – I know we packed aloe somewhere, I'll just –"

"It's in my bag," Kurt called out. There was a pause, a yelp – "Are you –" "Fine, fine, I just stubbed my toe, _ow_" – and then Blaine was back, setting the bag aside and sitting on the couch next to Kurt's hip.

"How bad is it?"

Blaine made a noncommittal noise in response, prompting Kurt to sit up because he needed to assess the damage if there was any hope for redemption. (Which there would be, of course – Kurt had worked with far less resources and far worse conditions than a _sun burn _before, but, seriously _ouch_.)

Besides, Blaine's face tended to be an open book, and if the sympathetic, borderline pained look Blaine was giving him was any indication, then Kurt had skipped the light pink phase entirely and gone straight to burnt lobster.

"Oh, honey," Blaine said, confirming his suspicions as he reached up to brush the backs of his fingers over Kurt's cheek.

"Tell me again why we picked the _beach _for our vacation?"

"Because it's romantic and it seemed like a good idea at the time?" Blaine offered, already squeezing out a bit of aloe from the bottle and murmuring, "Here, let me –"

Kurt hissed at the cold against his skin – "Cold hands, cold hands" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" – before sighing as Blaine rubbed his thumb gently over his cheek, spreading the aloe along his jawline.

"_God_, you're lucky you're cute," Kurt said, some of the bite seeping out of his voice in spite of himself as the aloe took effect. Tipping his head back to let Blaine take care of the burns on his neck – he was so doomed, _so _doomed to sleep that night, and he knew that Blaine would stay up with him all night if need be to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, regardless of how many times Kurt assured him that he would be fine – he let out another hiss when Blaine's hands skidded over his shoulders.

He felt tacky by the time his front was taken care of, grateful that he'd opted for the _longer _swimming trunks even though he had openly and ruthlessly exploited Blaine's love for the booty shorts whenever they had had the loft to themselves. It was almost worth it, though, because then Blaine was saying "Come on, I have an idea" as he shimmied around and got comfortable cross-legged on the couch.

Kurt let out another little _oooh _as he reclined gingerly, careful not to move any of his limbs too quickly. His entire back felt scorched, but Blaine's knees were just this side of comfortable underneath his shorts and Kurt's shoulders and his hands in Kurt's hair? _Divine._

"Don't think that this means I'm letting you off the hook," he warned, eyes closed and entire posture languid as Blaine continued to brush-brush-brush in just the right way, careful not to comb the coif too out of place (Kurt didn't actually have much hope that his hair wasn't already a mess, but it was still nice to dream and Blaine insisted it looked nice, either way).

"Wait, am I in trouble?"

Blaine's fingers paused until Kurt tilted his head against them, warning him not to stop as he explained, "I got burned and _you _got a gorgeous tan."

Blaine laughed a little, almost self-consciously. "Kurt, you have _gorgeous _skin."

"Which might never recover from this," Kurt reminded, letting out an involuntary groan and a "Please keep doing that" when Blaine started rubbing circles behind his ears with his thumbs.

"_I _still think you look gorgeous," Blaine insisted, prompt and certain, and it really was impossible to argue with him about some things, Kurt reflected, not at all disappointed. "And the freckles are really doing it for me," Blaine added, interrupting Kurt's pleasantly mindless reverie. "I didn't even know you had them."

"I was hoping you'd never find out," Kurt admitted.

"Why?" Blaine asked, startled.

Kurt nudged his head against his fingers again, not bothering to open his eyes as he explained, "Let's just say that they're not my most attractive feature."

"_I _think they're attractive."

"I'm sensing a theme," Kurt mused, blinking up at him. "Is there any part of me that you don't find attractive?"

Blaine's brow furrowed and for a moment, Kurt was certain that he was actually considering the question, categorizing each of Kurt's features from _most _to _least _attractive on some complex inner scale.

"No," he answered at last, succinctly, bending in half for a quick, upside-down kiss. "Although I do have to say that your cold, cold feet are a little too attracted to my calves at two in the morning."

"Oh, stop it," Kurt laughed, grateful that if _anyone _had to see him with a bad sunburn, it was Blaine.

And maybe he did deserve a medal for his patience, Kurt mused, because Blaine only jumped and grunted and let out a sleepy, "_Kurt_" when he pressed his eternally cold toes to his calves that night.

Kurt was generous enough to then let him hug his less burned arm for the rest of the night before drifting off into a hazy, inexplicably contented sleep of his own.


End file.
